Latest news with #Whiplash
Sydney Morning Herald
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
Hollywood loves a creepy fan, but this pop star just got very unlucky
The rules of the old Rolling Stone model were simple: glossy people on the cover, great unwashed in the mosh. 'These people are not your friends,' Phillip Seymour Hoffman's rock journo character warned his fanboy protege in Almost Famous, Cameron Crowe's 2000 cult hit about the perils of getting too close to fame. Since 'friend' became an option you tap on your phone, the distance between celebrity and fan has grown less comfortable. In his debut feature, Lurker, Hollywood writer-director Alex Russell explores an old dynamic turbocharged by technology and its illusions of access and intimacy. 'I was trying to write a movie that was Almost Famous for the first half and then Nightcrawler for the second. I ended up with more of a tonal marriage of the two,' he says. In 2014's bleak Nightcrawler, Jake Gyllenhaal plays a stringer who sells footage of car accidents to a news channel. Russell also cites 2013's Whiplash, in which a young drummer is relentlessly pushed by his sadistic music teacher: 'Two people, relentlessly paced, one wanting the approval of the other'. Lurker 's unhinged dynamics play out when Matty, a fashion retail drone, insinuates himself into the orbit of rising pop star Oliver. Matty is played by up-and-coming Canadian star Théodore Pellerin (Boy Erased, On Becoming a God in Central Florida), while Archie Madekwe (Gran Turismo, Saltburn) plays his unwitting victim. With absurd haste, Matty's flattery is rewarded with a role as court documentarian. As he saves every interaction in Oliver's party crib onto his hard drive, power soon shifts. 'It's so universal,' says Russell. 'People talk a lot about the dynamics of fame but before I had any ideas about the music world, I was thinking about this in [the context of] high school. Boys will clique up, and then there's one you just know has the power… 'Either it's their charisma or their confidence, or often it's just someone's decisiveness about what to do that night that turns them into the de facto leader, and then all of a sudden, people are competing for the other spots.' It's the competition that brings the drama. From All About Eve to The King of Comedy to Saltburn and Ingrid Goes West, the theme of alpha seduced and undermined by wannabe is not without precedent in film. What's changed in the digital age is the scale and speed of the transaction, faux proximity torching the old distinction between nobody and somebody so that any idea of natural order is up for grabs. Russell, writer-producer for The Bear, Beef and Dave, has a keen ear for the farcical language that lubricates this new world, where everybody is entitled to stardom as soon as they hit some critical social media mass. 'They get me. They're helping me reach my potential as an artist,' Matty tells his dumped friend at the clothing store after a weekend of brutal humiliation inside the pop star's entourage. 'You inspire me to be myself,' he tells Oliver in a tender moment. 'I live in LA. I work in Hollywood,' Russell says. 'I'm constantly hearing hilarious shit like that… there's worse things I've heard since then. I'm always like, 'Oh, that's so funny that someone said that in earnest'.' The manipulation, sycophancy and passive-aggression are deftly scripted. For anyone who's ever been backstage, even scrolled through a gushing emoji exchange on some needy pop star's feed, Oliver's castle in the air feels painfully real. The key to the film's satirical bite, Russell says, was casting actors who truly understood the game. 'I would cast someone based on them saying something that illuminated the material better than I could. They all really understood the microaggressions inherent in the script. 'When we shot that first scene in the store' — Oliver's insecurity peaks when Matty pretends not to know who he is — 'I got emotional, because I knew if that tone worked, the whole tapestry of the movie would fall into place.' For all the aesthetic polish — Lurker was shot on 16mm to evoke a timelessness that transcends the digital moment — the critique is unmistakably modern. 'What's new is the mechanics are different,' Russell says. 'We live in a such an unsubtle time. Everything is quantified and gamified.' Loading It's the game that he is skewering. Oliver is a king without a clue, as much a victim of the celebrity system as any of the hangers-on who live or die on his Insta. It's a world without love or meaning beyond the dopamine hit of your next Like. 'Everyone's operating out of fear. Including Oliver. Everyone is looking for direction.' The writer's own LA story is not irrelevant. He grew up elsewhere, 'moving once or twice a year', never long enough to belong. 'That put me in an observer position a lot of the time. Being the new kid in a different town… I've always had friends who were cooler than me.' Now, as an Emmy-winning player embedded in the showbiz machinery, his daily grind involves the same hierarchies and gamesmanship Lurker satirises. 'People are so malleable… you kind of become more like the people you're around. You gather friends because you want to be more like them.' The moral, if there is one, is buried under layers of cringe and complicity. Russell hopes his film lives in the realm of one of his favourite genres, 'the type of movie that an asshole is inspired by, like Wall Street or American Psycho: 'Yeah, I am that guy! I just want to be successful!'' Loading In an era where practically everyone has reached across the velvet rope to stroke an ego one way or another, Lurker also fits another genre: the film you watch while hiding behind your hands. 'Yes! I love that,' Russell says. 'People feel that secondhand embarrassment, that awkwardness. I think some people may even hate the movie because they're not realising how much they relate to it.'
The Age
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Age
Hollywood loves a creepy fan, but this pop star just got very unlucky
The rules of the old Rolling Stone model were simple: glossy people on the cover, great unwashed in the mosh. 'These people are not your friends,' Phillip Seymour Hoffman's rock journo character warned his fanboy protege in Almost Famous, Cameron Crowe's 2000 cult hit about the perils of getting too close to fame. Since 'friend' became an option you tap on your phone, the distance between celebrity and fan has grown less comfortable. In his debut feature, Lurker, Hollywood writer-director Alex Russell explores an old dynamic turbocharged by technology and its illusions of access and intimacy. 'I was trying to write a movie that was Almost Famous for the first half and then Nightcrawler for the second. I ended up with more of a tonal marriage of the two,' he says. In 2014's bleak Nightcrawler, Jake Gyllenhaal plays a stringer who sells footage of car accidents to a news channel. Russell also cites 2013's Whiplash, in which a young drummer is relentlessly pushed by his sadistic music teacher: 'Two people, relentlessly paced, one wanting the approval of the other'. Lurker 's unhinged dynamics play out when Matty, a fashion retail drone, insinuates himself into the orbit of rising pop star Oliver. Matty is played by up-and-coming Canadian star Théodore Pellerin (Boy Erased, On Becoming a God in Central Florida), while Archie Madekwe (Gran Turismo, Saltburn) plays his unwitting victim. With absurd haste, Matty's flattery is rewarded with a role as court documentarian. As he saves every interaction in Oliver's party crib onto his hard drive, power soon shifts. 'It's so universal,' says Russell. 'People talk a lot about the dynamics of fame but before I had any ideas about the music world, I was thinking about this in [the context of] high school. Boys will clique up, and then there's one you just know has the power… 'Either it's their charisma or their confidence, or often it's just someone's decisiveness about what to do that night that turns them into the de facto leader, and then all of a sudden, people are competing for the other spots.' It's the competition that brings the drama. From All About Eve to The King of Comedy to Saltburn and Ingrid Goes West, the theme of alpha seduced and undermined by wannabe is not without precedent in film. What's changed in the digital age is the scale and speed of the transaction, faux proximity torching the old distinction between nobody and somebody so that any idea of natural order is up for grabs. Russell, writer-producer for The Bear, Beef and Dave, has a keen ear for the farcical language that lubricates this new world, where everybody is entitled to stardom as soon as they hit some critical social media mass. 'They get me. They're helping me reach my potential as an artist,' Matty tells his dumped friend at the clothing store after a weekend of brutal humiliation inside the pop star's entourage. 'You inspire me to be myself,' he tells Oliver in a tender moment. 'I live in LA. I work in Hollywood,' Russell says. 'I'm constantly hearing hilarious shit like that… there's worse things I've heard since then. I'm always like, 'Oh, that's so funny that someone said that in earnest'.' The manipulation, sycophancy and passive-aggression are deftly scripted. For anyone who's ever been backstage, even scrolled through a gushing emoji exchange on some needy pop star's feed, Oliver's castle in the air feels painfully real. The key to the film's satirical bite, Russell says, was casting actors who truly understood the game. 'I would cast someone based on them saying something that illuminated the material better than I could. They all really understood the microaggressions inherent in the script. 'When we shot that first scene in the store' — Oliver's insecurity peaks when Matty pretends not to know who he is — 'I got emotional, because I knew if that tone worked, the whole tapestry of the movie would fall into place.' For all the aesthetic polish — Lurker was shot on 16mm to evoke a timelessness that transcends the digital moment — the critique is unmistakably modern. 'What's new is the mechanics are different,' Russell says. 'We live in a such an unsubtle time. Everything is quantified and gamified.' Loading It's the game that he is skewering. Oliver is a king without a clue, as much a victim of the celebrity system as any of the hangers-on who live or die on his Insta. It's a world without love or meaning beyond the dopamine hit of your next Like. 'Everyone's operating out of fear. Including Oliver. Everyone is looking for direction.' The writer's own LA story is not irrelevant. He grew up elsewhere, 'moving once or twice a year', never long enough to belong. 'That put me in an observer position a lot of the time. Being the new kid in a different town… I've always had friends who were cooler than me.' Now, as an Emmy-winning player embedded in the showbiz machinery, his daily grind involves the same hierarchies and gamesmanship Lurker satirises. 'People are so malleable… you kind of become more like the people you're around. You gather friends because you want to be more like them.' The moral, if there is one, is buried under layers of cringe and complicity. Russell hopes his film lives in the realm of one of his favourite genres, 'the type of movie that an asshole is inspired by, like Wall Street or American Psycho: 'Yeah, I am that guy! I just want to be successful!'' Loading In an era where practically everyone has reached across the velvet rope to stroke an ego one way or another, Lurker also fits another genre: the film you watch while hiding behind your hands. 'Yes! I love that,' Russell says. 'People feel that secondhand embarrassment, that awkwardness. I think some people may even hate the movie because they're not realising how much they relate to it.'
Daily Mirror
22-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mirror
‘Misunderstood masterpiece' starring Margot Robbie now streaming for free
It is said to be one of the greatest movies ever made An R-rated Margot Robbie drama dubbed 'a misunderstood masterpiece' is now streaming for free. Channel 4's on-demand service has just added Babylon to its catalogue, ready for Robbie fans to devour. Written and directed by Damien Chazelle, who helmed hit films La La Land and Whiplash, the 2022 dramedy tells a unique story. It follows Hollywood's transition from silent films to 'talkies' and how the shift impacted industry professionals. Viewers follow up-and-coming actress Nellie LaRoy (played by Robbie) and movie star Jack Conrad (Brad Pitt) as they navigate "an era of unbridled decadence and depravity in early Hollywood," according to the synopsis. Fans of Chazelle's previous works will note passing similarities between Babylon and La La Land, which is also set in Los Angeles and zeroes in on characters pursuing their dreams in Hollywood. However, the Oscar-winning director delves into darker themes here, exploring everything from crippling drug addiction to the depravity of the film industry. While the drama's star-studded cast piqued audiences' attention, Babylon ultimately failed to impress. It boasts a sour 57% critics' score on Rotten Tomatoes, with casual viewers awarding it a less generous 52%. The critical consensus reads: "Babylon's overwhelming muchness is exhausting, but much like the industry it honours, its well-acted, well-crafted glitz and glamour can often be an effective distraction." However, despite its low-ratings, the 2022 dramedy has become more popular over the years. Movie-goers are convinced the three-hour flick will be retrospectively praised as a classic. One five-star Google Review argues: "[...] Within the decade [this] will be considered a misunderstood masterpiece by many." Someone else echoed the sentiment, penning: "All I can say about Babylon is that it is a misunderstood masterpiece. I have never witnessed more decadence in the first 34 minutes of a film ever !! It's outrageous and absolutely fantastic." Meanwhile, a Rotten Tomatoes user praised: "UNDER FREAKING RATED," with a second stating: "I wish it was 5 What a ride. The music, the story, the pure genius!" Yet another fan shared: "Meaningful, beautiful and entertaining. Easily one of the greatest movie ever made. It felt like Wolf of Wall Street from Hollywood between 20s and 30s. This movie should be praised."
Yahoo
10-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Miles Teller praises wife Keleigh as couple rebuild after losing everything in LA fires
Miles Teller has shown his support for his wife, Keleigh Sperry, as they rebuild their home following the devastating effects of the Los Angeles wildfires earlier this year. The Whiplash actor, 38, recently spoke to ET about how he and his wife were handling the loss of their $7.5 million home in the Pacific Palisades. In January, LA declared a state of emergency as the city's suburbs were engulfed in flames, causing many celebrities who lived in the neighborhoods of Altadena and Sylmar, as well as the exclusive Pacific Palisades, to lose their homes. 'Yeah we're figuring it out,' Teller told ET regarding how he is handling the aftermath of the wildfires. 'I imagine with most people that lost their house, we're trying to figure it out with insurance.' 'My wife and I…she's very strong,' Teller added. 'It's brought us closer together.' Teller and Sperry have been married since 2019. The couple first met in 2013 at a Grammys afterparty, where Sperry notably rejected him multiple times while the two were waiting in line for the valet. He proposed in 2017 while they were on an African safari. They then got married in a private ceremony in Maui, Hawaii, on September 1, 2019. This is not the first time the Top Gun: Maverick actor has spoken out about the wildfires. In an interview with E! News back in February, Teller gushed over the support he received from his friends. 'Many people have reached out, just either letting us know that they're there emotionally, or people are offering us their place,' he told the publication at the time. 'I'm a Deadhead, and so I've had a lot of people reach out to Keleigh like, 'I want to send Miles a Grateful Dead shirt.'' 'Little stuff just means a lot, so it's been very heartwarming,' he added. Teller also discussed the grief he and Sperry were experiencing as he said, 'When everything goes and you have each other, it's very emotional. You lose your home, you're part of a club nobody wants to be a part of.' However, his wife revealed shortly after they evacuated their home that she regretted not trying to save her wedding dress. 'I wish I grabbed my wedding dress,' she wrote in an Instagram post from January. 'Wish I did a lot different but it doesn't matter, stay safe, get out.' 'We will come back stronger than ever,' Sperry added. 'There are no words.'
Indian Express
09-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Indian Express
Brad Pitt's ‘F1: The Movie' is a technical masterpiece depicting the high-octane world of Formula One, but lacks emotional weight
By Dhruv Kabir F1: The Movie uses speed as a language, and director Joseph Kosinski speaks it fluently. With sweeping camera work, cockpit POV, and a remarkable score by Hans Zimmer, the film captures the kinetic intensity of Formula 1 like never before. But, while the visuals boost adrenaline and the engines roar, the movie lacks the emotional weight or narrative subtlety needed to keep pace with its technical prowess. It's a spectacle well worth looking at, but one that never quite shifts into top gear where storytelling is concerned. Brad Pitt stars as Sonny Hayes, a retired driver brought back into the F1 world to mentor a rising star for a fictional 11th team on the grid – APXGP. The setup is familiar and not without charm: the weathered veteran, the ambitious newcomer, the gruff but loyal pit crew. Hayes walks through paddocks and press conferences like a man trying to outrun his past, and Pitt imbues him with a seasoned gravitas that is, at times, magnetic. He's better when he's behind the visor than in front of the camera, though, not because of a lack of performance, but because the script rarely gives him more than recycled sports-film wisdom to deliver. The most consistent star of the film is the camera itself. Claudio Miranda's cinematography is one to be remembered. Kosinski and his crew collaborated with F1 engineers and the teams themselves to rig actual race cars with cameras, and the result is immersive in a way that very few racing films have been able to achieve. The viewer isn't just watching a race, they're a part of it. One can feel the tension of a late-braking duel into Turn 1, the turbulence of turns at Silverstone, and the stillness of the grid before the storm. The final race sequence caps this film on a high. Using natural light and gritty track-side realism, it is a masterclass in action choreography. The transitions between cockpit POV, aerial tracking, and static ground-level shots are seamless. Kosinski builds an epic finish, not just with throttle and speed, but with spatial coherence and a rising tempo. Every overtaking manoeuvre and pit wall reaction feels earned. It is reminiscent of the final scene in Whiplash (2014), where the audience becomes one with the final act of delivering what the film has been building towards in its entirety, and is gripped to the edge of their seats. For those final 15 minutes, F1: The Movie leaves fiction behind and becomes a pure love letter to the sport. Still, beneath all the technical glory, the film's emotional ground feels underdeveloped. The narrative arc never strays far from the well-worn path of sports redemption: broken hero, second chance, slow build, triumphant return. There's comfort in the familiarity, but little surprise or sharpness. The drama is formulaic where it could have been introspective, and too often, characters serve roles rather than becoming people. Most crucially, the film lacks the emotional connection that audiences were able to build with characters in films like Rush and Ford v Ferrari, where the racers are not merely present on the screen, they are a hearty addition to the ordinary lives of those watching. The dialogue tends to lean on exposition and cliché, and while there are moments of sincerity, especially in quieter scenes between Hayes and his engineers, they're often smothered by the film's need to move fast. In trying to emulate the relentless pace of Formula 1, the film forgets that reflection is not the enemy of rhythm; it's what gives it meaning. The most glaring blind spot is in its portrayal of women. Kerry Condon plays Kate McKenna, F1's first female Technical Director in the film's universe, yet the script undercuts her authority at almost every turn. Initially introduced as a sharp strategist and team architect, McKenna is soon reduced to a background figure, then a love interest. Her scenes feel functional, and the same applies to other women in the narrative, such as a pit‑crew mechanic, who is relegated to comic relief, fumbling tools until she's rescued by male characters (even though it is passingly addressed in a smart retort to Pitt). Mechanics, reporters, even rival team principals are allowed complexity or presence. In an era where F1 is actively working to expand its female talent pool and viewership, the film's gender politics feel regressive, even lazy. To its credit, the movie does succeed in other forms of representation. The inclusion of real-world drivers, appearing in cameos or background paddock sequences adds credibility. The fictional team APXGP, built from the bones of real F2 infrastructure, mirrors F1's own aspirations toward accessibility and future expansion. And in the age of Drive to Survive, where the sport's drama is increasingly defined by its narrative packaging, this feels like a logical, if slightly sanitized, cinematic evolution. In the end, F1: The Movie delivers on the spectacle but not quite on the soul. For what it builds up in soothing the eyes, it lacks in heart. For fans, it's a reminder of why they love the sport. For the uninitiated, it's a focused close-up rather than the big picture. And for the sport itself, it's a powerful piece of image-making. It captures the speed, the sound, the smoke, but not always the silence in between.
